


Seven Different Failures

by RantingSalads



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Anyways, BUT!!!, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Richie Tozier, F/M, Fluff, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Stanley Uris, Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Richie and Stan are fuckin BFFs in this and you can pry this friendship from my cold dead hands, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, also, also commitment issues, also x2, also x723685634958 the rating is mature for like, and just like heavy themes at some points, but more on that @ 9, depression and shit like that, especially big ones, fma, god richie is a meme lord in this hhhhhhh, heads up: im probably gonna be self projecting a little bit, hella fluff too, hi i love dogs, i am mortified, i meant fml, its just me complaining about people who just moved in next door, its nothing bad at all, monster factory reference lmfao, oh hey also, okay so like, okay this tagging is a fucking mess what the fuck, plus a shit ton of cussing, sadly my writing style draws things out, sorry if i dont get the characters right, the landlord is secretly me, theres definitely gonna be angst, theres gonna be hella memes too, theyre like a couple briefly passing tho, this fic is def a glow up from my shameless sasunaru one i made (and deleted), this is my first work for the fandom so like, yeah sorry to disappoint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-02-07 00:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12829641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RantingSalads/pseuds/RantingSalads
Summary: After struggling for as long as he could remember by himself in New York, Richie Tozier decides to sell his apartment and move into the same battered complex as his best friend Stanley Uris in order to pursue his lifelong dream. However, as he begins to know the residents and learn he isn't suffering alone things spiral to a point he'd never thought possible.





	1. New Day

**Author's Note:**

> please be nice to me

fail  
fāl/  
verb  
1\. To be unsuccessful in achieving one's goal.

2\. To neglect to do something.

Richie. Eddie. Bev. Ben. Bill. Mike. Stan.

Annoying. Asthmatic. Abused. Fat. Depressed. Black. Jewish.

“Fucking loser. You’re a failure, and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

“Failure.”

What does it mean to fail? What does it mean to be a failure? 

 

Richie Tozier was never one to quit easy. He’s never really understood the concept of other people: how their lives are different from his, how their likes and dislikes are different from his, that his boundaries are not the same as others’ are, how everyone has a life outside of interacting with him, how people can exist, without him even knowing. It was too big for him to wrap his mind around. He didn’t like facing problems that couldn’t be solved or studied at just face value. He couldn’t think ahead, and understand what the consequences of his actions were. All his life he’d spoken out and conveyed what he thought, whether it be through words or actions, and was always yelled at or treated negatively for it. It was all he knew, it was all he was used to, so he didn’t believe that there was really a good outcome to anything anymore, and old habits die hard as they say. So this, of course, lead to the piece-of-shit-trashmouth-tozier, which his best friend Stan so kindly crowned him, that exists today. Twenty two years old and fresh out his third place of residency in the last four years.

“That has got to be a new record.” Stan said after hearing this news over phone, putting emphasis on the got. “Even for you.” Richie let out an odd sound from the other end of the line, kind of like a mix between a chortle and a sigh.

“Actually, Stan the Man, I got kicked out of a frat house within a month when i first joined college. THAT is my record.” Richie said placing down his phone on the counter in front of him, pressing the speaker button. 

“Holy shit. What did you even do to get kicked out that quickly?” Stan said, only a little mortified at just how much his friend moves around. 

“I’m honestly not even one hundred on that,” Richie picked up his toothbrush and placed some toothpaste on it, “I think the main dude or whoever said something about not taking an oath, and like, smashing his girlfriend, I’m not sure.”

“So you’ve mentioned already.” Stan relaxed mostly, hearing that it was a mix of a stupid reason and a Common Richie Tozier reason.

“Yeah, I never really liked that frat anyways- or any frat I visited for that matter. I don’t think that life style suits m- Stanley fucking Uris I want to die.” Richie had suddenly dropped his voice an octave, becoming serious.

“Tell me about it," Stan scoffed. "What happened?” Said Stan, only slightly concerned.

“Okay so here I am, talking to my best friend at three in the god damned morning- wait why are you even up so early? What were you doing?”

“I-” Stan began.

“Anyways,” Richie continued. Stan sighed. “Here I am, talking to my best friend at three in the god damned morning about how I got evicted from another apartment, when I go to brush my teeth. Everything is normal about this right? Right. Going good, going smoothly. I put the toothpaste on my fuckin’ brush and this bitch has the audacity to fall the FUCK right off when I put it under the water. I cannot believe what just happened to me. I think I need therapy after tonight. Today.”

“I think you need therapy for a lot more than toothpaste falling off the brush Trashmouth.” Stan said, trying his hardest not to laugh at his friend’s tangent. 

“Rude!” Said Richie, trying to put toothpaste on his brush again.

A comfortable silence fell between the two as Richie continued to freshen up, just a little. Contrary to popular belief, the man did not like to have sour breath and an oily face at three a.m. 

Stan himself decided to get up and start making coffee, he wasn’t going to sleep after hurting his stomach from holding back that laugh. 

“Anyways,” Richie began after finishing his teeth and rubbing his face down with a warm hand towel. “Two topics now need to be covered.”

“Hmm?” Stan hummed, walking down the stairs to the shared kitchen of his apartment building and turning Richie to speakerphone. 

“Where the fuck I’m gonna live, and what the fuck you’re doing up at three in the morning on a Thursday.”

“Why are you up at three in the morning on a Thursday, huh? Tozier?” Stan had entered the kitchen by now, his feet comfortably shielded from the cold checkered tile by his beige slippers. 

“Oof, breaking out last names are we? Anyways, I was listening to music and I’d run out of meds, like, two days ago, so I was off the wall all day and never really stopped. The usual.”

“No, Richie, it should not be ‘The Usual’ for you to run out of your prescription.” Stan had started the coffee by now, and was getting out his mug. It was pale blue with the word pride written in a small font, but in all caps above a rainbow flag. It was a gift from Richie on his 17th birthday, back when Stan had been accidentally outed and was received negatively by his dad. A small, fond smile appeared on his face.

“-anyways that’s why I think dogs should be able to vote.” Richie finished whatever absurd thing he had gone off topic about with a confidence in his voice that should not have belonged there.

“Three things. Okay one, what the actual fuck. Two, I totally spaced out besides that last bit. Three, what the actual fuck.”

“Aha! I knew you weren’t listening! What were you thinking about Stan,” Richie had suddenly made his voice all sappy, “was it a boy? Oooo! Does my wittle Stanny Wanny have a cwush? Is that why wittle old Stanny Wanny couldn’t fall aswe-” Stan had hung up on Richie, a bright blush covering the majority of his face as he poured himself a cup of coffee. 

On the other side, Richie Tozier was fucking dying. God he hadn’t laughed so hard in a while, tears threatening to spill while he was curled up on the ground, grasping at his stomach and gasping for air. A hot minute later he had called Stan back, laughter still soaking his voice.

“Stan this is why I’m being kicked out, I’m too loud. I'm laughing so fucking hard right now you don’t understand. I literally died I’m dead now.” Richie was still out of breath.

“I can tell, asshole. And I mean, you weren’t wrong.” Stan’s blush had deepened again, after it had cleared up slightly.

“WAIT HOLY SHIT. STANTHONY ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU, STANLEY FUCKING URIS, HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE? WHAT MIRACLE? @ GOD CAN YOU DO THIS SHIT FOR ME? WHAT THE FUCK!” Richie was losing his shit.

“Did- did you just, tag god? In a real conversation? What the fuck?” Stan made no move to quiet his speech this time, as he had been for the entire conversation.

“NO! STAN! I SHOULD BE THE ONE SAYING WHAT THE FUCK! IS HE HOT? WHERE DOES HE LIVE? HOW DID YOU FALL IN LOVE? I”M SHAKING MY BABY BOY IS GROWING UP.” Richie continued to lose his shit.

“Richard I swear I will hang up on you again and not answer when you call me back, also stop yelling it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay before you even start on that bullshit, this is a huge deal!” Richie had gone back to his normal speaking voice, albeit that wasn’t the quietest either, it was better than his shrieking. “Stan you haven’t had a real crush since Mr. Hammon! Is he straight?”

“Richie, oh my god! That was fourth grade! I didn’t even know gay people existed then!” Stan had taken a sip of his coffee, which was starting to go cold, and sat at one of the three small tables in the kitchen. “And, no, he’s not straight. I actually got super scared whenever I first realized I had a crush because he was dating this girl at the time. But they’ve broken up since and after game night on Friday, which involved more alcohol than I’m willing to admit-”

“You just did.”

“Shut up I’m telling a story. Anyways, he was drunk, I was drunk too, though the most sober in the room, and we were all just talking and having fun when civil rights came up and let’s just say, out of the 10 people in this building only four are completely straight, which is great, and one of us is a fucking homophobe, which is fun. They’re moving out on Saturday because of it. That also-”

“Fantastic!”

“Interrupt me one more fucking time and say goodbye to your entire vinyl collection.”

“You wouldn’t dare Staniel.”

“Try me.”

“But wait! Aren’t you gonna ask why that’s fantastic?” The toast Richie had put in the toaster a few minutes ago had finally popped out, nearly scaring the shit of him.

“Because a homophobe is leaving? What?”

“No! Silly! That means I can move in! We can relive that cringey childhood promise that every pair of best friends made where if both of them ended up sad and alone they’d move in together.”

“Excuse me, I vividly remember you being just as serious about it at the time as I was, and I also vividly remember literally just telling you about my single, not straight crush, that lives in the apartment right above mine.” Stan took another, large, swig of his mostly cold coffee. 

“Yeah yeah whatever. Give me the run down though, and like, the rent, ‘cause I have this idea that I’m keeping super secret for a while but it might be expensive so.” Richie took his toast and plopped down on the floor in front of his couch. He had cleaned and packed up most the place and didn’t want to ruin anything again. That would mean even more cleaning. Guh.

“Whatever, anyways.” Stan began. “I live in this weird apartment that has three stories. The first floor holding the landlord’s space, the kitchen, the pantry, a closet holding cleaning supplies, a recreation room, the really basic stuff. Keep in mind that all of this is really shitty because I’m pretty sure this building has lived through three different wars. The second floor has four apartments, and the third floor has four apartments. Each apartment holds a bedroom, a bathroom, a small living room sort of space, and a space where a kitchenette would go. However, all the kitchenettes were removed to make room for more living space, plus it saves money because nine different households won't be using nine different kitchens. Only one big one. It’s a mediocre building but It’s really cute, and super aesthetically pleasing. Plus the roof is really good for bird watching and chillling.”

“Okay sorry I almost fell asleep. I know all that stuff Stan!” Richie whined. “C’mon tell me the good stuff, give me the gossip.” Stan took another sip of his coffee, and Richie took a bite of his toast. (More like inhaled half of it in one breath.)

“Whatever. There's Me, Bill, who is my crush, this really cool girl named Bev, I think you’d love her, Ben, who has a massive crush on Bev, Mike, who is one of the four straights, Eddie, Anna and Edgar, who are the homophobes. Actually, Anna was the only one I heard being blatantly homophobic so I don’t know about her husband, they’re both moving regardless, they were two of the four straights. There’s also the landlord, whose name is Betty, she’s this little mixed old woman who is legit the cutest girl ever, she’s like seventy something and has four massive rottweilers. I’m fucking terrified of them so I have to get Bill to pay my bills for me.” Richie opened his mouth. “Don’t you dare say it Tozier.” Stan took a sip of his coffee and then continued. “Eddie is like the only one of us that doesn’t cry a little every time he sees them, the dude loves them like they were his children or something and they love him right back. It’s surreal to watch.” Richie wondered silently about this Eddie person, he sounded kind of interesting, if loving rottweilers was anything to go off of. “And then that leaves Dylan. She’s the last straight. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her before, she’s literally never here and whenever she is she just stays in her room the entire time.”

“Do you know any more about Eddie?” Were the first words out of Richie’s mouth. Stan laughed a little.

“Yeah, he’s like, 5’6 and It’s so cute, he’s twenty one and gay as fuck- I can relate by the way. He’s kind of a hypochondriac, I can tell it’s something he’s working over though. He likes things clean, again, I can relate, but not as intensely because his apartment is still too messy for me. He’s always wearing shorts with high socks and a sweater, again, fucking adorable. He’s kind of tan with freckles and not too interesting brown hair.”

“Yo dude it kind of sounds like you have a crush on Eddie, and not Bill.”

“Don’t even get me started on Bill. This boy is the epitome of everything good ever. He’s 6’0” even, making him taller than you bitch.”

“Oh fuck off!” Snickering, Stan continued.

“He’s confident in himself and loves to bike and just be outside. He isn’t super muscular, but has a little definition. His eyes are so fucking pretty, Richie, you don’t understand. His hair is so soft, so, so soft, and he constantly smells like the ocean even though he’s deathly afraid of it. He’s kind to me about my OCD and knows how to walk me through my panic attacks. He’s such a gentleman it’s amazing. He’s so kind to everyone. And-”

SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE

“I cannot fucking believe you Richie.”

“I’m joking.”

“RICHIE I SWEAR.”

“Dude I get the point, you’re literally in love with him. I get it. Moving on. What’s the rent?” Stan answered Richie’s question, still a little salty due to being cut off so rudely. 

“It’s way cheaper than what you’re paying that for sure. The place is close enough to the city to bike there but is also close to an older part of town called Riverside, it’s so beautiful there.”

“Okay I think you’ve sold me this place and an entire squad.”

“I don’t love you and want you to move here or anything, but I do love this place.”

“Okay we both know that first half was a lie, but dude it’s like nearly five now, I still have a job believe it or not.”

“I don’t think being an Uber driver counts as a job.” Stan snorted into his coffee.

“Like I said Stan the Man, Super Secret Project, and I think your little loser hole is the perfect place for home base.”

“Okay, whatever that means.”

“Great I’m moving in this Saturday.” 

“Excuse me?” Stan choked on his coffee.

“Okay I know I’m a hot mess, multiplying the hot times three and the mess by seven, but I’m not so dumb as to not immediately choose to move into the building my only friend left lives in. Surely you didn’t miss your neighbor’s listing go down last Sunday.”

“Sometimes you surprise me Trashmouth.”

“Sometimes I surprise myself. Mainly when I finish yet another 5 season show in two in a half days, but I surprise myself.”

“Going back to a previous topic, the sun is literally rising right now so I’m gonna let you go.”

“Askjfbdkjbfhdsk.”

“How did you do that.

“Do what?”

“Goodbye, Richie.” And with that, Stan hung up. He washed his mug and left it to dry on the rack, and went back to his apartment.

Richie, on the other hand, stared out his bay window, finishing the toast he had made quietly. Sure, New York was fun, but something just didn’t feel right here. So he confirmed his plans out loud for the first time today. 

Yes, the sun was rising on seven different types of failures, but that only meant they’d all have a second chance.


	2. Mercy Being 38 Would Put Her At Around 14 At The Time of the Overwatch Collapse and Therefore Her Age is Actually Around 60 or 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the rest of the characters show up! And I'm still bad at summaries :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also!!!!! Sorry so FUCING much for like! just disappearing! for whatr? 5 months? not good. ik. im rlly sorry!! stuff came up and my mental health went down the shitter but thank you so much to everyone who left comments, bookmarked, and left kudos!! you guys were truly a light in the darkness for me :3c

The smoke from her cigarette mingled with the fog from her warm breath as Beverly Marsh sighed. She was sitting on a small wooden swing bench with her feet comfortably tucked under her in criss-cross. She glanced at her watch, and then at the rising sun above the treetops. It was a peaceful day. The air was cold, but her lungs and her heart were warm. Probably from the toxic chemicals within her system but she decided not to dwell too long on that. Everything was calm with the birds chirping every so often and the creak of the old dark wood beneath her filling the silence.

She loved mornings like these. It felt as though the world was finally asleep, like everything was put on pause. The stress from her shitty 9 to 5 job didn’t exist, the terrifying nightmares as result from trauma not yet past didn’t plague her being, no one was around to judge her every move. Things were simple at five in the morning, conversation was small and easy, and everything was soaked in a warm pink. Her dreams, not the bad ones, felt real at this time.

Getting up and stretching out her back, she moved to the edge of the roof, in between a plant and another chair, to take one last drag at her cigarette. “God I am so lonely.” She spoke softly, afraid the world and whatever greater power there may be would hear her.

Snuffing the cancer stick out in the ashtray which rested on a small table, she sighed yet again and headed back into the building, hopefully to catch a few more hours of sleep before she was rudely awoken by the ringing of her alarm clock. 

Everything was quiet until she’d gotten to the stairs leading down to the first floor, she was going to grab a snack when she’d suddenly heard, “do you know more about Eddie?”

It was a voice she’d never heard before, kind of raspy, which only meant one thing, and Bev was the only person she knew that smoked. Besides her boss. But that woman only smoked cigars, and this was definitely a male’s voice. Then, Stan had answered the voice, talking about Eddie. “He’s so fucking gay, I can relate.” This caught Beverly’s ear and made her stifle laughter. Same, she thought. 

Stan and the Mystery Man, whose name turned out to be Richie, talked more about the building and its inhabitants. Apparently, Stan had a massive crush on Bill, and Richie was moving in on Saturday, juicy. She honestly though could not wait to meet Richie. She had learned a bit about him through Stan’s rants, but nothing could be like the real deal. Beverly, however, was quickly knocked out of her stupor as she heard Stan cleaning whatever he had been using, and decided to vacate the area.

Quietly standing up from the top step, where she had decided to sit and listen, she made her way back down the hall and into her own apartment, which happened to be across and to the right of Stan’s. Bev then made her way to her bedroom, realizing only then that she had an hour of sleep left instead of two. “Fuck,” she muttered, before forcing herself to shut her eyes and count sheep.

In the apartment next to her’s however, Eddie Kaspbrak was having absolutely none of what Friday had already begun to offer. He’d woken up three minutes before his alarm was scheduled to go off, which was at 6, by his neighbor Bev shutting her bedroom door just a little too loud. Eddie wanted to stay in bed longer, but he knew it was pointless, so that left him shutting and opening his eyes every so often for three grueling minutes as he waged a war in his head counting down how much time he had left to sleep.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“God DAMNIT,” Eddie gasped, sitting up in his bed. There’s no better way to wake up than being jolted out of sleep three minutes before your fucking alarm goes off, which makes you stress and sweat for some god unknown reason. Eddie ranted in his head as he angrily got out of bed. Just getting out of his door, he had stubbed his toes twice and hit his side on the door frame. _I’m going to strangle the first person I see today I cross my heart._

Messily, the small man shoved his feet into the only pair of shoes by his door. They just so happened to be his iconic white chucks. “I am not going to tie you on my feet,” Eddie spoke to the shoes as he loudly opened his front door and stumbled towards the kitchen, his sneakers haphazardly clinging onto the front of his feet. 

Yawning obnoxiously, Eddie made his way down the hall and to the stairs. Being only half awake and not nearly coordinated enough in the current moment to even be allowed outside his apartment, he didn’t notice Stan coming up the stairs and ran straight into him.

“Oof!” Stan grunted. Eddie looked at him in disbelief.

“Did you just-”

“Richie’s fault.” Stan quickly blurted, “goodbye.” And retreated to his apartment.

Guess Eddie didn’t murder the first person he saw after all, for sure, though, it’d be a miracle if he didn’t murder someone today. Shrugging, he continued into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, moving to sit down next to the window. Taking a swig, he immediately felt like vomiting.

“This is the worst day ever in the history of all days,” Eddie muttered. “Spongebob is a liar.” Without having the luxury to even sit down yet, Eddie walked back to the counter, pouring out his coffee into the sink.

“Oh dear, what happened, Edward?” A small voice asked from behind him.

“Huh? Oh, good morning Mrs. Handen, I didn’t hear you come in.” A small smile found its way onto Eddie’s lips. Betty was a ray of sunshine. “Nothing truly bad has happened, but the coffee pot ran cold and cold coffee is disgusting.”

“That's a shame. I was actually going out right now to buy more, as well as a couple more groceries.” Now that Eddie looked at her, she was dressed.

“I can go with you if you want.” Eddie offered, his schedule was clear for the day and he knew he’d be bored.

“No, no. It’s okay, I’m actually meeting someone beforehand. He’s moving into Anna and Edgar’s apartment and I wanted to get to know him and discuss everything he’d need to know before he moved in tomorrow.”

The words took a minute to fully sink into Eddie’s sleep soaked mind. “Someone’s moving in? Tomorrow? Are you sure?”

“I couldn’t be surer actually. He offered a bid for the apartment less than three days after the listing went up and secured it not even a day later. The planets aligned in my favor, I won’t be losing any rent.” Betty had a small, smug grin on her face. This woman was 3 ounces of whoop-ass, Eddie could give her that.

“This may sound a little rude, but, why here? The place is beautiful but it’s not particularly close to anything important.” Eddie had turned around by now and was starting to make a bowl of cereal.

“What people find important varies from person to person dear,” Betty said this kind of distantly, but quickly snapped out of it. “Oh, sorry Eddie. I think the renter said something about knowing Stan.” Eddie briefly wondered if this person was the Richie Stan had mentioned less than ten minutes ago. 

“I’ll have to ask him more about it then.” Eddie turned back around and took a bite of his cereal. Mmmmm nothing like a bowl of Bland Generic Brand No-Sugar Milk Oats to start out your day. “Have a good day Ms. Handen.”

“Please, Eddie, you’ve been living here for months, call me Betty.” Ms. Handen said, walking towards and eventually out the front door of the complex. 

Waiting a few more minutes, wallowing in the heavy silence that encased him like a blanket, Eddie decided he wanted to eat breakfast on the roof today. Leaving the kitchen, he quietly made his way up three flights of stairs, making it to the seating area he adored greatly.

In the midst of a crazy amount of plants, there was a wooden swing bench on one side of a low rising coffee table and two red love seats that looked like they belonged in a basement covering two other sides of the coffee table, and finally a pair of wooden and metal chairs. Closer to the railing that lined the perimeter of the roof, there was a random pattern of more chairs and couches with the occasional plant and, or, lamp. The whole thing always took his breath away.

Carefully sitting down on one of the couches, Eddie noticed the ashtray was giving off a little bit of fog from a temperature difference. _Bev must’ve been here a little bit ago_. He thought to himself. Alone and quietly, he finished his cereal, thinking only about his plans for the day and this new neighbor of his. _What was he like? Is he like Stan said he was? Will Eddie like him? Will this change his life at all? What does he do for a living? Why is he moving here of all places?_

Eddie sat for a few minutes, his bowl chilling his exposed thighs, staring at the small cactus on the table in front of him. A shiver suddenly erupted from the base of his spine, knocking the small man out of his own mind. Drinking the leftover milk, he got up and yawned, walking lazily across the roof and down the stairs. 

Dropping his bowl off in the kitchen, Eddie went back to his apartment. He quickly changed into running clothes, filled up a water bottle, grabbed his phone, and headed out the door, only to be pleasantly surprised. “Oh, hey Bill. You’re not normally up until, like, one in the afternoon. It’s only nine.”

“Ha ha, vuh-very funny Eddie.” Bill deadpanned. “Suh-Stan accidentally texted muh-me and we just kept tuh-talking. We’re gonna guh-go out to the new coffee sh-shop in a few.” 

“Hey, Bill your heart eyes are showing.” Eddie teased, flicking Bill lightly on the forehead. Both of them moved back down the stairs yet again. 

“It’s not my fault the most guh-good looking guy in the world lives below me,” Bill said with a smug grin, doing nothing to combat the red of his cheeks. 

“Then what am I?” Eddie watched as Bill made himself a piece of toast.

“The suh-second best looking guy,” Bill said, adding a generous amount of jam to his toast. 

“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” Eddie shrugged. 

“Honestly suh-same.”

A relaxed silence fell between the two as Bill prepared a second piece of toast and Eddie chose his playlist for his morning jog. After choosing, Eddie spoke up.

“Hey, Bill did you know we’re getting a new neighbor?” Eddie asked.

“The one muh-moving into Anna and Edgar’s place?” Bill asked back.

“So you do know.” Eddie paused. “Wait how did you find out?”

“Ruh-remember how I went on a day trip up to suh-see my family two days ago? I got back late, luh-like at two in the muh-morning, and apparently Buh-Betty was out and got back around the suh-same time. We tuh-talked and she let me know.” Bill got increasingly angrier as he spoke. “Guh-Goddamnit. I thought my stuh-stutter was gettings better buh-but of cuh-course it has to come buh-back in full force when I tuh-talk for longer than three suh-seconds. Fuck.”

Eddie smiled softly, “don’t worry Bill, it’s gotten much better since when we were kids, even when you talk for a bit. Your stutter is something you can’t help, don’t beat yourself up over it. Plus, you got angry, and we both know your stutter gets worse whenever you’re emotional.”

“Kind of hard wuh-when you hate yourself for muh-more than just your stutter.” Bill winked playfully and gave Eddie a couple of finger guns. 

“Can’t even argue with that.” Eddie snorted. “Anyways, do you think the rest know?”

“Puh-probably not.” Bill answered. 

“I do!” A voice called from upstairs. Stan walked through the door to the kitchen a few seconds later.

“Oh, ‘sup Stan,” Eddie said

“Wait, Stan, we ah-aren’t scheduled to go fuh-for another fifteen minutes. I huh-haven’t even brushed my tuh-teeth or hair yet. Huh-heck, Stan!” Bill bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs as soon as he’d finished. 

“Hello to you too, Bill!” Stan called after the retreating figure. Turning back he spoke, “Hey Eddie.”

“Is it true your friend Richie is moving in?” Eddie asked Stan. They both moved to sit down at a table.

“Yup, tomorrow. He surprised the shit out of me honestly, he was living good in New York. At least I thought so.” Stan looked down at his hands, which were wrung tightly. This worried Eddie a little bit, he knew Stan had anxiety and worried about everyone and everything sometimes.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?” A crease was finding its way in between Eddie’s brows as well now.  
“Oh!” Stan’s eyes widened, he didn’t realize his tick. “No, it’s just- Richie is always memeing, i act like I hate it but he’s actually really funny and a loud, but stable presence to be around but, he was, like, extra,, memey,,,, I don’t know how else to put it. I know one meme and it’s the mocking Spongebob meme. I am uneducated. But like he was everywhere when we were talking earlier today, and it’s not new or anything just, there’s usually a method to his madness but this time it felt like he was just shouting and joking and moving and, just, _going_ , because he felt like he needed to.” Stan looked up at Eddie and saw worry, absolutely no mistaking it. “I’m sorry. That made no sense. And all of that was his business. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

In all honesty, Eddie was kind of lost, but he got the gist of it. “No, no. It’s okay. Promise. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks. I just hope it was me overthinking it and he’s actually okay and was just high or something.”

“DID SOMEONE SAY WEED?” The deepest voice in the apartment called, from god knows where.

“Wh-” Stan started.

“I’M CALLING THE POLICE!” Suddenly a dark leg jutted out from the kitchen opening and stomped. After a second the rest of Mike comically appeared out of the doorway. A giant grin was on his face. Eddie and Stan had nearly completely forgotten the very emotional and messily put together rant the author got too emotional to finish they’d been talking about seconds ago.

“How long were you there? Also, why are you so excited at, what? 7:53 a-” Eddie was cut off.

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE MICYCLE HAM-LOCK HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!” The screech of yet another person, distant but ever present, erupted and filled the halls. Footsteps were now heard stomping down two flights of stairs. 

Seconds later a round and fake-angry Ben Hanscom appeared in the doorway, staring at Mike. Eddie and Stan were, needless to say, stunned into silence. Mike was dying, leaning on a counter for support. “The ONLY, and I mean ONLY fucking reason you won that match was because you MAIN Reaper, I have LESS than AN HOUR on him and I have a GOLD BORDER! I DEMAND A REMATCH YOU THOT.”

“BEN IS MAD BECAUSE HE IS BAD! BEN IS MAD BECAUSE HE IS BAD! BEN IS MAD BECAUSE HE IS BAD!” Mike was chanting, through, tears and what little breath he had from laughing.

"I AM _NOT_ JAKE!" Ben retorted. 

Meanwhile Stan and Eddie, still stunned into silence, were wondering what ancient tongue they were speaking in. Who was Jake? Why is he bad? Reaper? Beats them! Gold border? Who is she?

“AND IM NOT BAD WE’VE JUST BEEN 1V1ING ALL FUCKING NIGHT IM GONNA-” Suddenly, a door was heard. Not slamming, but creaking, as though it was opened very slowly. Silence fell. The color drained out of all four of the faces present. The air became cold. Thumping down the stairs. Ben swallowed. Mike whimpered. The footsteps neared. Stan and Eddie looked at each other. A woman appeared head bowed, her phone held above her red hair, it’s alarm set for 8 sharp 

Quiet.

Quiet.

Qui- BRRRRRRRRRRIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG. 

Bev slowly looked up, if this was an anime her eye would be on fire and there’d be that dark aura thing around her. If he wasn’t a grown ass man Mike would have peed himself.

“I had. One hour of sleep left. Then I woke up again, not naturally, not by an alarm, but by you idiots screaming about Overwatch, one. _One_. Minute. Before my alarm.”

Ben and Mike were on the verge of tears, Stan was stifling laughter, Eddie was red in the face and laughing so hard he wasn’t making any noise. You know that vine where the teacher is like SHUT THE HELL UP? Eddie is that student with his head down hiding his laughter.

“And it was a Reaper duel. You couldn’t even argue about a good hero. I am-” Mike cut her off.

“Wait what’s wrong with Reaper?” He sounded accused, but there was a smile on his face. Ben sighed, relieved, and all tension was gone.

“He’s a giant pussy! He had like what? 40 Years to ask out the love of his life and what’d he do? Destroy an entire organization rather than admit his feelings.” 

“She’s got a point,” Ben added.

“I cannot BELIEVE you two! Reaper, also known as Blackwatch Commander and Leader Gabriel Reyes is NOT a pussy! I can’t deny what you two said but I'm 100% sure the whole fall of overwatch was Jack’s fault.”

“How dare you insult my main like that!” Bev screeched.

“It’s what you’re doing to mine!”

“Guys! Guys. Guys.” Ben calmed them down. “We all know that the fall of Overwatch was unintentional, and neither of the Ding Dong Duo-”

“What?!” Mike and Bev chimed together.

“ShHHhHHHHH! And neither of the Ding Dong Duo is really to blame, but what we can all definitely agree on is that Widow is the hottest character in the entire game.”

“AGAIN, WITH THIS?!” Mike said the same time as Bev with, “Dude you’re a MEI main?”

The three of them erupted into arguing again, Stan and Eddie getting absolutely none of what they were saying. 

“Okay I’m going to leave before my run never happens today. Good luck with Bill and good luck with the Nerd Trinity over there.” Eddie quietly said to Stan. “Bye-bye!”

“Mm, bye!”

And with that, Eddie slipped out of the building, hearing a last, “OKAY BUT THERE IS NO WAY MERCY IS 38 THAT’S JUST IMPLAUSIBLE,” before the heavy wooden door closed behind him.

Not even five minutes later, Overwatch, Richie, and Stan out of his mind, Eddie was stuck pondering the same question over and over in the silence of this small town, interrupted only by the occasional music verse actually being processed by his brain. _Did I forget to lock my door?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SYKE! It's a [happy ending] you were fooled! HE HA HO HO.
> 
> @ me w any inconsistencies pl s i kinda shat this chapter out so not much happened but!! I LOVE YOU GUYS sorry it took so fuckin long to update T__T 
> 
> hey also if ur on overwatch pc in the america's friend me @ Bean#12568 im a reaper main and i need more friends

**Author's Note:**

> LEAVE UR FEEDBACK PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I DID GOOD OR BAD SO I CAN IMPROVE AND GIVE ME FEEDBACK ON WHERE YOU'D LIKE THIS TO GO I KNOW JUST AS MUCH AS U DO


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